


Masked Mirrors

by SetsunaNoroi



Series: Broken Mirrors, a Loghain Mac Tir and Solona Amell series [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Anora being a bit bitchy, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Sex, F/M, Festivals, Friend with benefits, From Sex to Love, Grey Wardens, I REGRET NOTHING, Light Bondage, Loghain dominate, Male-Female Friendship, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Public Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Uniform Kink, broken friendship between Amell and Alistair, female Amell dominate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3708447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SetsunaNoroi/pseuds/SetsunaNoroi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year and a half since they've seen one another, Loghain and Solona kept in contact through letters. To him it's nice to have a friend. To her it's much more. Her feelings for him have grown over time, and when pressed by Anora to invite him home for the second year anniversary after the Blight's end for a celebration, the Amell has her own reasons to agree. Sequel to Loghain Dreaming. Rated M for VERY adult situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Letters from Home

**Author's Note:**

> So when I wrote Loghain Dreaming, I cut it short before it really got to anything juicy. For those who don't know, I wrote that fic as a gift for ladywinde on deviantart because of an inspirational picture I saw that she'd drawn. It was really just supposed to focus on a slightly erotic moment of Loghain's, seen by a somewhat inexperienced and young Amell before she scurried off, too embarrassed to do anything with the moment.
> 
> I've had good remarks on it, but it seems people did want more to happen, so this is a sequelto it. It's a bit more plot heavy than the previous one-shot, since I think Loghain is too complicated a character to just say, "And then smut happens," with no chance of real build up. So this will have a bit of Solona and Loghain growing closer before anything really happens. Expect multiple chapters, and I have no idea how long it will last. Considering it's really only a romance and no other plot happening (as of now anyway) I don't imagine it will be long. Perhaps five to ten chapters or somewhere in between.
> 
> Since this is a sequel, I would largely recommend reading Loghain Dreaming first, which you can find in my profile. It's not required, but it does set up the personality and already established relationship between the characters, so it might be easier to understand. However, again, not required.  
> As I say in all my fan fictions, I do not own the world I'm writing about. Dragon Age belongs to Bioware. This is just for fun.

Chapter 1: Letters from Home

Loghain knew from the moment he made it to Orlais, he wanted to turn around and leave. He'd snuck in quietly, not wanting to attract any attention to himself, but it had still made his stomach clench and his skin crawl. He felt like every curious glance sent his way as he traveled was a scheme, or that every passerby might suddenly pull a dagger from his or her cloak and fighting him to the death.

It was paranoia and he knew it, but he still hated it. How could he not feel that way? This very country had tried to destroy his country, enslave it. No, they had not tried. They'd succeeded. For a very long time it had been that way, until he had driven them off with Maric and Rowan. The war had lasted so many years. How could he possibly be comfortable here now?

His travels to reach Montsimmard were slow. He kept to the lesser used roads and did his best to stay at small villages. The people in the little rustic places were quiet and peaceful, didn't recognize him except to note his accent and make pleasant conversation. They were Orlesians through and through, but even he knew simple townsfolk were almost always the same no matter what country you were in. They didn't worry about politics or who was on the throne aside form idle talk. The matter of their chickens laying enough eggs or bread rising was much more important to them. It was the only way he could even think about relaxing, and even then it felt frustrating.

By the time he reached Montsimmard, he knew he didn't want to be there even more surely when he'd crossed the border.

The Grey Wardens there were not insufferable, but he almost wished they were. In fact, they seemed to try hard to make him feel welcome. Though he was a fresh recruit, they understood he was a powerful man already and experienced. He was often asked his advice on matters by the older ones, and the younger warriors, often recruits like him, would follow him around and chatter happily with him. They were not old enough to personally remember losing the previous war, just a bit of history to them. Another war before their time and they did not seem to care who he was.

It was... odd to have such camaraderie about him, but it felt false. It was like they were trying too hard to prove they weren't like the their countrymen. To them, they were Grey Wardens first and Orlesians second. It wasn't right though because Loghain knew it couldn't be true. After all, he would always be a man of Ferelden first and Grey Warden second.

He tried to be polite, or at least not too rude, if only to keep things simple and civil. They were all experienced fighters and they watched his back, and he forced himself to watch theirs. He didn't join them often for frivolities, for they seemed to love to go to those ridiculous parties with too many masks and assignations, but in simple dinners or meetings he made his appearances.

He had lines that were clearly not for crossing, and they respected it... mostly. His refusal at their uniform, blue and glittery and much too fancy in his opinion, was forced upon him despite his protests.

"We wear this with pride," they'd insisted as they urged him to accept it. "You should too."

He didn't like it much. Too much blue stained leather, not enough steel like his full-plate mail that he had worn for years. It seemed too nice to get dirty, though it was constantly drenched in darkspawn blood as they traveled to the Deep Roads and hunted them down. He felt like he spent half his time washing the damn thing to keep it as pristine as the other Wardens seemed to think it needed to be.

Oh no, they were definitely Orlesians first, hostile or not.

It might have driven him mad if not for one respite. Even in the middle of this country he hated, surrounded by such nonsense, he had one connection to home. Letters from Ferelden to ask after him and inform him of news from home.

When he'd first arrived, there had been a total of five waiting for him. He'd wondered why so many and was surprised at the contents as he read through them. One of course, was from Anora. It was the thickest, asking him how his trip had been and urging him to write back soon. It was also full of information about politics and while she didn't ask for advice, he wondered idly if she wanted any. He decided not to offer. He'd come here because the Grey Wardens didn't want him interring. If he risked it, who knows where they'd send him next.

Mostly the her words were just complaints about Alistair anyway. He joked too much, they bickered over everything and he wanted to rule the country with her instead of just letting her do everything like she was comfortable with. He was actually proving to be capable from what she was saying, and Loghain was sure it was irritating her to no end. After all, she'd enjoyed Cailan's running off all the time in order to do things her way. He'd never cared if she was sneaking about behind his back to rule and be the actual one in charge. Apparently his new son-in-law, while seemingly much more stupid at first glance, wasn't anywhere as willing to roll over.

The second letter of course was orders from his superiors. It was nothing he hadn't already been told. Work well with the others, stay out of trouble, and what his duties exactly entailed.

Those two he could have expected, and somewhat had. The last three are what had confused him at first.

All of them were letters from Commander Solona Amell.

They'd been dated a week apart from one another, and the first was mostly polite inquiries about his trip and asking him if he was settling in, along with a promise that she would keep him informed about home as long as he'd want. The other two told about progress in Denerim, how the rebuilding was going and how the citizens were. It wasn't the vague politics of the court that Anora had described, but oddly sweet and personal little things.

' _The children were out playing today,'_ one had said. _'One of them bumped into me while I was on my way to secure a sale of more granite for the walls. She actually hugged me around the waist and begged me to cast a few spells. I don't think I could have made her more popular amongst her little friends if I'd tried.'_

She didn't usually talk about anything more important to that, and yet he enjoyed it. Every week there was another letter, and while some of them had official Warden business, the thought alone of the Architect had made his skin crawl and he was glad she'd seen the wisdom of killing such a creature, it was usually just little things that had no real baring on anything except the general peace that was coming back to their country.

Anora kept him up to date about the way the country was run, but Amell seemed to want him to know that the people were still happy. Honestly, as odd as it was to admit, he was much more pleased with the second. He loved his daughter dearly, and she was a politician to the heart, but she had little connection to the people. He couldn't blame her. He'd raised her to think with a critical mind, as he'd developed over the years, but his way thinking had not led to good things in the end. She saw numbers instead of people and he was happy there was Alistair and Amell there to balance out such thinking. Ferelden needed a sharp mind, but its leaders could not forget the people like he had.

At first, he'd only written back to the mage to be polite. He hadn't wanted the commander to think he was rude or didn't appreciate her efforts, though there wasn't much for him to write about. Often it was just describing the city he was in and how much he didn't like it. Too much sun, too colorful and the people spent money on those stupid looking masks. He couldn't imagine she looked forward to his constant complaining, but she wrote more often than anyone else he had contact with, even Anora. Letters from his daughter were infrequent over the months, usually only when something important was happening.

As was how it should be. She had a country to run and he didn't want her worrying about him as if he were some fool who couldn't take care of himself.  
Now... he enjoyed it. As he became more comfortable with his role with the Wardens, his letters became more casual. He told the commander of the training, or the other recruits. Sometimes he even bothered to mention small, personal things like she did. A walk he took, or a little lake he'd found and had lunch by. His letters became more... personal.

 _'I'll never get used to the building here,'_ he'd confessed in a recent letter. _'They're so different_ _i_ _n every way from home. The fact that the bricks are all evenly made, a bright red compared to the stones we use back home. It's not even bad. Just strange. So much effort must go into making those homes, and I often wonder at that. Half the people here wear masks and put on airs, yet the other half seem so hard working and civil. To make those bricks must take so much time and effort, yet I'd thought them nothing but snobs before I'd come here._

 _'I certainly can't say I'm comfortable here, but it's strange to know there are people here that have no part in this affair they call the Game._ _Even then, I can still get away when it becomes too obvious where I am stuck._ _When I get far enough away from the city, I can sit in the grass and close my eyes. For a brief moment, all I hear is the wind blowing and the sounds of animals or nature. It's like being home again, for just a second.'_

He'd almost tossed it away the second he'd finished writing it, and yet he'd sent it anyway. It was all foolish nonsense, but it felt safe to say things to her. They'd been speaking by letter for eight or nine months now, and that young woman had his respect. He could at least be truthful with her.

Her response had probably been too kind to him. He didn't think he deserved it.

 _'It's always hard to be away from home, Loghain,'_ she'd written back. _'There are times when I miss the Circle terribly. The smell of the books, the quiet of the library and the absolute mess of the practice rooms because of apprentices and their half controlled spells. To me, it will always be home. Denerim is nice to visit and Amaranthine is beautiful, but I sometimes miss the days when the world was a little smaller, a little more personal. I certainly understand what it's like to look around yourself and see things you don't expect and want it to be different._

_'I think you are doing well though. I've been told nothing but good things about you from scouts from Orlais and you've been given much praise. I don't think anyone would blame you for lashing out, now especially. You've taken all of this in stride, even when you didn't want to._

_'I've never been prouder of a friend than I am of you.'_

Being called her friend had been a little strange for him. He didn't know when that had happened. They'd been enemies once, allies reluctantly and eventually comrades who could trust one another. Just when had they become friends?

He could only blame the letters. There was nothing else that could have brought that about. These simple parchments had allowed him to lower his defenses somewhat, become less tense in a country he despised. Amell had given him simple things, but things she somehow knew he needed. Perhaps he'd let go of himself more than he'd intended to in his letters but what was done was done.

Maybe by some odd turn of events he had gained a friend, even as unlikely as she had been.

It could only be why when he sent his own letter back to her, he did something he'd never done before. He actually asked her about herself. After all, she had listened to his complaints and then his doubts. Surely he could offer the same if she needed it.

_'I imagine things can't always be easy there for you. If it's not too forward, how have you been? You always speak about the citizens, but never yourself. How are you handling your duties? Perhaps you could share some of your troubles with me, if you wish to.'_

He didn't receive a letter back for three weeks.

At first he was sure she'd been offended. Had she seen it as an implication that she couldn't handle her duties? It was her own life. Perhaps she hadn't wanted him to butt in. She was an adult on her own, and like Anora, did not need him trying to dictate her life.

Not that he'd meant to imply any of that, but he knew from personal experience just how easily offended women could be.

When he finally received word, it wasn't what he'd been expecting.

_'First off, I'm sorry for the late reply. That was rude. I wish I could blame it on something, like distracting darkspawn or something of the like. Truth be told, I feel embarrassed now about this. It's just that I wasn't sure how to write this, and every time I tried it just wouldn't come out right. I must have abandoned this letter about a dozen times before getting back to it. It's just touching that you would ask, but at the same time I don't want to worry you. You have enough troubles without adding mine, but you asked. I guess it would be rude not to respond._

_'The command itself hasn't been hard. I think I've grown into it. I've had people come and go. Anders and Justice are gone, though I don't know where to. Sigrun has also left, though that I know where. I tried to convince her to stay, but she's insisted it's time to go back to the Stone. That was a month ago. I don't know what to do about that. I considered a funeral, but it seems tacky. Oghren has suggested just drinking for her, but I think he'd drink to her name one way or the other._

_'It's easier than when I took over though. I've begun to cope. You were right, there are many ways of dealing with leadership, and I think I've found mine. Life goes on, and we receive more soldiers by the day, hoping for more. The land is prospering and the peasants are no longer left wanting for food or safety, so I feel like I've done my job as Arlessa._

_'Harder is the court. It seems I've kept the Banns in Amaranthine happy, but I don't like leaving for Denerim. It's easier to go out on a journey and find fifty bandits that want my head for bragging rights than to go there. It's very cold. I feel as if I'm never welcome. The king I can understand. His Majesty never truly forgave me for my choice concerning you. He is civil, but his sweetness towards me is gone. I know now our friendship is dead, and because of it I'm not in favor at the court. I hear the whispers about me, and they're not easy to ignore.  
_

_'Oddly enough, Queen Anora seems to help a bit. I wouldn't say we're friends, but she is kind to me. She's begun to invite me to tea when I visit, which makes my duties a bit easier. I think she only asks me to talk about you though. She's always asking what we write about so much to each other. I'm not sure if it's a good or bad sign she knows we even write at all, considering I never told you. I can only assume you did, or that she has spies that my scouts can't find. I suppose it shows she knows what she's doing at the very least._

_'I don't feel welcome there, and when I am there it is only official pleasantries. The king has little time for me and I've long since learned not to press. He is ruler and I am simply one of his subjects now, to take his orders when he gives them and to help the country where I can. The queen is more polite, but I know it's because it's more because of decorum than anything else. You are alive and she is grateful, but my position for her is the same as it is for her husband._

_'Ferelden is my home, and I love serving it. It's been my place all my life, to serve. My life as a mage, as a Warden, and now as standing nobility are all just roles I wear. I enjoy helping, but I miss something more personal along the way. I actually almost find myself wishing for the times we were in the Blight. As much horror as there was around us, I still had him. He was still my friend. Now he is king, and I know in my heart it's wisest to stay away and let him be that without my interference.  
_

_'I will never regret the day I chose to spare you. That's why I found this letter so hard to write, but I didn't want you to think I blamed you. There were too many parchments thrown away because it came out wrong. My choices are my own, and I made them for the good of my kingdom. I think I did what was best and I will live with it knowing that. Still, one can not help but sometimes miss what one used to have._

_'In any case, thank you for asking me. It felt both nerve wracking to write this, but oddly releasing as well. It was good to get it off my chest in the end.'_

He was glad to know he hadn't offended her, but it actually hadn't been easing to him to read it. Her words felt a little too close to home for him. The things she'd written about were a bit too familiar to him, things he had once felt himself.

There was patriotism in the letter, a real belief she was doing the right thing. He'd known that about her for a long time, but there was a tinge of regret in her words now. It was a sensation he was familiar with, one he wished he wasn't.

He himself had done many things for his country, many of them he did not regret. Some of them he did. He'd never wanted to let Rowan go, not really. It had been for the greater good. Neither of them could have afforded to be selfish. She'd gone off to become queen and he himself had met a beautiful and sweet woman with hair the color of golden wheat and blue eyes so deep they'd reminded him of gemstones. He'd fallen in love all over again and he allowed himself to be happy, but there was always a touch of regret.

Perhaps that's why he'd done everything he could to be so good to her when he was at home. Nothing was too expensive to buy for her, nothing too fine for her tastes, and he'd done his best to be the family man he should be. He began to think of her more than Rowan, and he considered it a success, even as he wondered what could have been.

A man was shaped by his experiences though, and he knew somehow he would not have rushed into a marriage so quickly if he hadn't been trying to convince himself he had to move on. As he read the letter it was like seeing words he himself might have written, if he'd had someone safe to confess to. He'd never dared speak to Rowan or Maric about his misgivings but if he had, he was sure it would have looked like this. There was no denying he had drifted apart from the both of them as time had gone on, and all three knew why. It had been polite not to talk about it, but that had not stopped him from feeling it.

Amell was devoting herself entirely to Ferelden, to the people and to her king and queen, but he could tell it was hurting her. It drew at him at the almost mimicry of the situation. He'd worn the burden of being the third wheel while still doing his best to serve and now she had the same sad fate.

He couldn't offer any advice on the subject more than just general tidbits that she should let herself focus on her work and find joy in that. It wasn't right to outright tell her to forget Alistair, and somehow suggesting she find herself a husband seemed rude. Not only for the matter that mages were not allowed to legally marry. Even if she had been able to, it seemed like advice a father would have given and he certainly wasn't that. He also dared not to reveal his personal experiences and tell her he knew himself in time it would hurt much less. He'd never spoken of that tender time with Rowan and he certainly wasn't going to put it to paper to risk anyone reading.

He wondered idly how deep this cut had to run for her. Clearly she cared about Alistair. When he'd been tracking them, his scouts had told them the two were constantly close, talking merrily and playing around. He'd even once gotten a detailed report how they'd spent their march laughing and shoving one another while traveling down the road and all but ignoring their other companions.

He'd thought them idiotic children playing at war who couldn't possibly understand the dangers this country faces. Now he wondered if they'd simply been two people, determined to find happiness in one another in the bleakest of times.

"Does she love him?" he'd asked himself countless times, long after the exchange of letters had moved on to another subject. She had been the one to suggest Alistair and Anora marry, but that wasn't a clue to the answer. He was certainly proof of that.

It hadn't seemed like any of his business, so he'd let it go. The last thing he could do was ask. Luckily it was an easy enough conversation to ignore, since they so rarely discussed the royal couple anyway. It was easy enough to begin asking about things like how her keep was coming back together and if she would be traveling back to the Circle any time soon for visits. It was practically idle chit chat at this point.

Then an invitation arrived, nearly a year later.

_'Dear Loghain,_

_As always, I hope this letter finds you well. I've written to inform you of an upcoming celebration at Denerim. As of course you know, the second anniversary of the slaying of the archdemon is approaching. Last year things were still so busy with restoration and clearing out the last remaining darkspawn, there wasn't any official celebration. It seems this year, Queen Anora wishes to make up for that. There's plenty to celebrate, I suppose. Her wedding anniversary is so short after, along with the date that was the crowning of His Majesty. A lot to be happy about, I think.  
_

_'She's declared that there be a festival along with parties at the palace. I don't know all the exact details, but it's been pressed to me I'm expected to make several appearances. Apparently the whole thing is supposed to last two weeks, and I've been asked to be there for the entirety of it, along with a guest I've been informed I'm allowed to bring with me to the balls and feasts.  
_

_'I've decided to ask you. Inside is all the information about what is going to be happening. Honestly, I haven't looked through all of it myself, but I have a feeling there will be plenty of expensive food and speech making, neither of which I'm looking forward to. I could use a friend, so I hope you'll be able to tear yourself away from Orlais for a short time. I would appreciate the company and I'm sure you would not mind the break._

_'Please let me know the moment you decide. If you decide not to come, I'll just have to find someone else, but I do sincerely hope that your answer is yes._

_Sincerely,_

_Solona Amell  
_

_P.S. Do me a small favor? If you do come, please let Her Majesty know as well. I'm sure she'd be pleased to hear about it.'_

True to what she'd said in the letter, there was plenty in the envelope that described what would be happening. Everything from small intimate dinner parties, balls, festival activities that could last days and even firework displays were outlined in an official announcement baring the royal crest. Anora had told him the treasury was more than healthy again, but clearly more so than she'd informed him if she could spend this kind of money without fear.

Well, the ending of a Blight was quite a feat. Having a party to enjoy the good fortune would certainly be good for morale. Ferelden was proving it had recovered very nicely from the war, and he could see that in every word of the announcements he was holding.

He was a little surprised that he'd been asked to go as her guest though. Why would she pick him out of anyone she knew? Surely there was someone who would be better suited. While he'd been there at the end of the Blight, he certainly had not ended it himself and he was sure there were still plenty of men and women who had no love for him.

Maybe the invitation was out of pity. A way to get him out of this country for a while. She had not seemed happy with the idea of him leaving a year and a half ago, and when she'd wished him goodbye she had barely been able to look at him. Considering he'd almost sliced her throat open the night before, he'd assumed she was angry at him at the time, but perhaps it had been anger at herself for being unable to save him from an unwanted post.

Whatever reason, he felt grateful for it. Time away from Orlais could never be a bad thing. It would be nice to get away from the masks everyone wore, the finery he could not stand, and just go home to relax a little.

By the next day, he'd already written both his daughter and friend about his plans to come home for the festival. His leave time secured and his pack filled with what he needed for the journey, he set off only a day after the letters had, eager to see his sweet Ferelden again.

End of Chapter 1


	2. Welcome Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter for Masked Mirrors. Not much to say about it except that I was really eager to get this written so I started it almost the second I had the first chapter posted. I'm not sure how quickly updates will come considering the fact my work week just started, but I'll do my best to keep the wait from becoming too long.
> 
> Again, don't own Dragon Age. Loghain and Solona belongs to Bioware, but I'm happy to say this version of her is all mine.

Chapter 2: Welcome Home

To say that Solona Amell was suspicious when she was asked to have tea with the Queen Anora would have been an understatement. Warnings had been going off in her mind from the moment she'd received the invitation, brought to her by a personal messenger who insisted Her Majesty wanted to see her as soon as possible.

It wasn't like she had never had dealings with the royal woman before, but it was always when she was already in Denerim for some other reason. She'd never been personally invited from Amaranthine just to socialize, and something about it hadn't bode well to her.

Still, it's not like she could say no. Even if she'd planned to ignore it, the messenger had been given instructions to take her there himself, so she couldn't claim the invitation hadn't gotten to her. With no good excuse to not go, she'd had little choice in the matter.

It was why she was in the gardens of the castle now, sitting across from Anora at a little white painted table of beautiful decoration, and a tea set spread out in front of her that probably cost more than a soldier working in the Ferelden army made in a month. It wasn't the first time she'd been here, in this position, but before Solona knew just why the queen wanted to talk to her. This time was a total mystery.

"I trust you are enjoying the tea?" the queen asked as she sipped daintily from her cup.

"You know as well as I do that I haven't touched it," Solona remarked. True enough, her cup was still full and untouched.

"It's called polite conversation. Something important for court, you know," Anora said, her eyebrow arched a bit. "Not to your taste?"

"The tea or polite conversation?" she asked.

"Take your pick."

"I'd prefer blunt honesty, actually," the mage replied. "You've never invited me to the castle in almost two years. I can't help but wonder why you decided to break from tradition."

The queen looked at her for a second, her expression blank, but Solona could tell the gears in her mind was turning. She let the woman think, picking up the tea to drink. It wasn't bad actually. She'd always preferred coffee though. Tea was just a bit too sweet for her, something she'd never bothered to mention to the queen. It's not like the drinks would change if she did.

"I have a favor I wanted to ask of you," Anora confessed. "Something only you could do."

"I see," Solona said. "Trouble in the kingdom?"

"Not exactly, no. This really is a friendly visit. Nothing official," Anora said. "As I'm sure you're aware, the second anniversary of the end of the Blight is approaching. Ferelden has many dates to celebrate. So many good things happened for the country then, and I think it's a good idea to let the people enjoy themselves."

"You want me there?" Solona asked. Of course she'd want her there. She was the Hero of Ferelden after all. "You could have just invited me with a letter, Your Majesty. No need to invite me personally."

"Oh, I know," Anora said. "Of course you're expected to make an appearance. Several, in fact. I don't plan just one celebration. With the date of my anniversary to Alistair, along with the end of the civil war. There are plenty of official dates that could use a holiday. I've decided to make it a long event for the nobles and people to enjoy. The matter is though, I think there is someone who simply must be here, even more than you."

"Oh?" Solona asked as she took another sip. "Who?"

"My father."

For a moment, the mage said nothing. She set her cup down and waited for Anora to continue, but it seemed she'd said her piece so far. Eventually the mage pushed the cup away and leaned back in her chair.

"You want to invite your father to this party, and you called me here instead?" she guessed. "I'm going to assume there's some reason why."

"I won't waste words. The fact is, my father has been away for far too long. I have not seen him since he was called away by the Grey Wardens. They've flat out said it's to keep him from interfering with politics here. If I were to invite him back, they may see it as a plot," Anora explained.

"Your Majesty, if I may speak frankly?" Solona asked.

"Yes?"

"Have you gotten worse at lying since the last time I saw you?"

The queen's face went a bit red for a moment, her lips pursed together. Solona could tell she'd struck a nerve, but she didn't feel sorry for it. Whenever they talked it was about Loghain. The mage was long since used to it, and liked the honesty between them. She knew perfectly well Anora could care less about her, but kept things polite because it was easier.

If she was going to be drug away from her keep and her command by Anora, she was going to know why, and it was going to be the truth.

"The Grey Wardens have no problem with visiting amongst family and I know personally he's been keeping his nose clean. They would have no problem with his own daughter asking him to come home for a short time. You're a clever woman too. I know you know this. So why don't you tell me what you really want from me, and why?" she suggested. "Otherwise I must thank you for the tea and be on my way. I have work to do."

"You'd never survive in the royal court with the way you speak so frankly," Anora muttered. "These matters are delicate. It's important to be treated that way."

"I have no time for court anyway. It's not my interests," she admitted. "So, what do you really need?"

"What I've told you before. You to invite my father to these events," Anora said. "As for the reason? Fine. The truth is, Alistair and I have been... strained lately. More so than usual. I won't get into details but he's... been distant. Cold."

Solona wasn't aware there wasn't a time when Alistair hadn't been cold to Anora. What had changed so much to make it worse?

"Is this whole party a chance to cheer him up?"

"This is for the good of the kingdom. If he wants to sulk, it's on him. He's simply ignoring his duties to me," Anora snapped. "I need him for certain things, and he refuses to help."

"I thought he'd been a great influence on the throne so far," Solona said in confusion. "What's happened?"

"No... not that," Anora admitted. She began playing with her fingers and fidgeted a little in her chair, a nervous habit of hers. "He's been neglecting his duties to... me. For an heir."

The mage, for the first time since she'd sat down here for this discussion, felt shocked. That was not something she'd been expecting to hear. She wasn't sure she wanted to either.

"I don't see how I have anything to do with that," she said quickly.

"What you have to do with it is nothing at all, I can assure you that," Anora said, her eyes cold. "I can work on the rift between my husband and I just fine. That is not the issue at hand. What is, is the fact my father should be here for this. His reputation is in tatters and I know he can rebuild it by coming back here. It's only... Alistair has never forgiven him. I cannot be the one to invite him without risking repercussion, but I know you two are in contact. If your official invitation were to include a guest to bring, surely it would be fine for you to ask him. No one would need to know it was on my behalf."

"I don't think that would make the king very happy with me," Solona noted.

"It doesn't matter. He hates you anyway."

The mage sat there and felt a little cold when she heard the harsh words stated so casually. Even after all this time, there was a sting to hearing things like that. The queen was able to say it so easily, as if it were fact as true as the sky being blue. Maybe it was. It's not like Solona could go and ask him about it, nor did she really want to.

She sat there and considered for a moment, thinking it over in her mind. It had been a long time since she'd seen the man. Not since that night that she'd caught him in his bedroom, and then an awkward farewell the next morning. Things had long since been smoothed over in the letters obviously, and by smoothed over, she meant ignored and never brought up. Loghain probably didn't even remember that night, even though it had haunted the mage quite a few times in weaker, and more fun, moments.

Her thoughts about the former general had only grown since then, and in a way she never would have expected them to. The sight of him naked and bare underneath his blanket had burned into her mind and she'd never been able to truly chase it away. She'd never wanted to either. To say she'd had lusty thoughts about him would be downplaying it in the extreme. There had been times she'd absolutely yearned for him.

She'd come a long way from that shy young woman who didn't even know what to do with a man beyond theory, one who'd run from his bed without even explaining why. She wondered what it would be like to see him again, the things she could talk to him about now. After all, she was more grown up, and he would only be here for a short time.

At the very least, it would be nice to have him around again. More than that... well, perhaps she could convince him of her interests, if she were able to put it in a way he might appreciate. She wasn't sure what kind of woman he liked, but she was certainly bold enough to ask him now or at least put out a few hints and see if he caught her intentions.

Solona looked at Anora, even as she wondered if her father was just as delicious looking as he had been over a year ago and wondered what it would be like to taste him. Filthy thoughts were already dancing in her mind of running her tongue along his body and she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

"It's been a while since I've been to the estate here in Denerim anyway, and it seems like it would be a bit empty if it were just me," she admitted. "Very well. I don't mind inviting him for you."

"Thank you," Anora said. "I only have one further condition, if you don't mind?"

"What's that?"

"Don't tell anyone why you invited him, not even him. If anyone asks, just tell them you wanted to see him again," the queen instructed. "Especially Alistair."

If the invitation to tea had been suspicious, this felt like Anora waiting for her to turn around to plunge a dagger in her back in comparison. This was beyond just a little suspicious. Why would she care if Loghain knew the truth? He'd never be dumb enough to say anything and risk upsetting his daughter's marriage. Oh well. Solona didn't honestly care enough at this point. Anora was right. Alistair could not be any more distant from the mage if she went up and slapped him, and it wasn't anyone else's business why she would invite Loghain. Besides, the 'false' reason for asking him was true even if Anora didn't know it.  
She did want to see Loghain again after all. The mage might never have thought to ask him on her own for risk of rocking the waters, but since she'd been asked, she certainly would do it. Just not for the queen.

It still made her think Anora wasn't quite telling her everything, all this secrecy, but she considered the fact she'd be trying her best to seduce the woman's father right underneath her nose was good enough revenge on the queen for making her be a part of all this cloak and dagger silliness.

#-#

Loghain's travels to reach Montsimmard had taken him almost a month when he'd first left, but he made it back to Denerim in only a week. Taking the direct roads had helped this time, and he was actually eager to get to his destination this time instead of doing everything he could to put it off. It was a delight to actually be back home again. The sound of his people talking, the smell of the city, and even the air felt welcoming to him. The cool, crisp breeze on his face was a wonderful sensation, even as it whipped his cloak about him and he had to tug it tight around himself to keep warm.

While he did wish to wander around the city and enjoy the sights he'd long missed, he was tired from his journey. The very first thing he was concerned about was getting some rest.

It seemed Amell had been waiting for him to show though, because he had not been in the city for longer than fifteen minutes before a young boy ran up to him. He was dirty and a bit on the gangly side, and when he smiled his two front teeth were missing.

"Loghain Mac Tir?" he asked.

Loghain felt a little insulted the boy even asked. He was well known enough in his country, especially this city, to know there was no need for anyone to ask.

"Yes," he said. "What?"

"Me and some of the boys were told to tell you if we saw you. Arlessa Amell is waiting in her manor, formerly Howe's estate. She requests that you come as soon as you can," he said as he rubbed at his pockets before giving a big smile.

"You expect a tip, I take it?" Loghain asked.

"If you're going to tell me to take a bath and eat a hot meal, I already heard that today, Ser. Twice," he said with a shrug, his smile turning into a frown.

The former general grabbed a couple silvers from his side pouch and pushed it in the boy's hands. He could afford more, but he knew these messenger boys. Give them too much, and the whole pack would follow you around in hopes for more. He didn't feel like getting the headache, so he moved on almost immediately.

It didn't take long to reach the estate, but he was a little surprised by it. When Howe had lived here, it had been crawling with guards and servants. Yet when he was greeted, it was only by a couple of older elves that had graying hair, along with a daughter who looked to be little older than fifteen or so.

"Arlessa Amell is upstairs," he'd been informed as they bowed their heads to him. "Freilni, go get the mistress."

The girl had curtsied a bit to the man, then ran off to find the mage. Loghain looked around as he waited, seeing many of the rooms boarded off or closed with tapestries blocking spots he knew doors would be.

"Is the manor being reconstructed?" he asked the older elf woman.

"No, Ser," she said with a nod. "We are the only care takers left of the house. Most of the staff was moved elsewhere, and the guards fired or pulled into serving at Vigil's Keep. Arlessa Amell has little interest in the house. She only keeps it for taxes and to stay when on business here in Denerim. Most of the manor has been closed off to reduce cost for heating."

Of course it would be too spacey for a single woman and just a few servants. Howe himself had loved power as well as showing it off. He'd liked having his own personal army of guards, and a place to keep them. Commander Amell had her keep though, so she probably had little use for another large home to worry about.

After another few minutes, the elf girl came back, along with a young woman. Loghain looked at Solona for the first time in eighteen months and was shocked by her appearance.

When he had last seen her, the commander had been rather skinny, almost underdeveloped. Too much time spent cooped up in some tower, left to look small in comparison to her companions, like a weed in a garden. She'd still been growing into herself back then, only seventeen or eighteen at the time if he could recall correctly. Though legally an adult at sixteen, she hadn't really been physically.

That had clearly changed over time. There was more meat on her bones now, the appetite of being a Grey Warden clearly doing her some good. She was dressed in a sleek gown of red velvet, cut low in both the front and back, with golden embroidery and a golden chain for a belt. Her chestnut hair had also grown, while before it had been short, now her hair was tied into a bun with her long bangs trailing down the sides of her face and resting on her breasts. Even though she was fully dressed, her curves were obvious, nothing but a healthy woman standing in front of him.

She had certainly grown into her own over time.

"Loghain, I'm so glad you made it," she said as she approached him. "How are you? Was the trip okay?"

"I made it here alive. I think that should be answer enough," he stated, though he paused when she took his hands into her own.

"It's been too long. I'm so happy you accepted my invitation. You'll have to forgive the dress. I was in the middle of trying on gowns for the parties. You're lucky you got here a few days early. Your daughter has been doing nothing but giving suggestions about what I should wear and what I should say since I agreed to come. I'm sure she'll want to go over you with a fine tooth comb as well. You'll probably have a nice set of ceremonial armor you can use though. Lucky you. Apparently none of my battle robes are appropriate," she explained.

"There's nothing to excuse," he said politely. "It looks charming on you."

She smiled softly, and dropped his hands, twirling her fingers through her strands of hair before shaking her head.

"You must be tired from your trip. Have you eaten?" she asked. "Rossdaer makes a wonderful stew. Perfect for cold days like this."

The male elf nodded his head a bit.

"That sounds fine. Thank you," Loghain said.

"Perfect. Freilni, take his bags to his room, and Gratna, fetch a bottle of wine," Solona instructed.

"Any year you would like, Arlessa?" the woman asked.

"This is a celebration to welcome the Hero of the River Dane home," she said as she pondered it over, tapping a finger on her chin. "I think something from the sixth age would be appropriate."

"As you say, Arlessa," she said before bowing a bit and the three left to take care of their duties.

"You have become very comfortable with command, I see," he noted. "So much for your position being temporary."

"I had always intended it to be that way," she admitted. "I guess it stuck though. I'm not here much though, so I like to relax when I am, or at least try to. It's almost always business when I'm in Denerim. These three don't even see me much. I pretty much give them run of the house while I'm away."

He followed her to the dinning hall, the large table still there, made to sit a good twenty people, and still as many chairs. To be polite, he pulled the chair at the head out for her and allowed her to sit before before pushing it gently back in.

"As I said before, you wear it well," he said. "You've gotten a confidence about you. It's a good thing."

"Yes, I suppose confidence was not the first trait people would have described me with when I first left the Circle," she admitted. "I was probably too young to be out trying to save the world."

"There have been younger," he told her as he began to remove his cloak, stained a dirty brown in all his traveling. He noticed her eyes catch on him when his Grey Warden armor underneath was revealed and he almost regretted taking off his cloak as he sat down at her left. "It's utterly foolish looking, isn't it?"

"This is the first time I've seen the Orlesian Warden armor," she admitted as she looked him up and down. "In person anyway. I've seen pictures, sketches. Her Majesty seems to think we should adapt a similar uniform, for unity purposes."

"Oh really?" he asked with an eyebrow arched before snorting. "I certainly hope not."

"It looks handsome on you," she commented suddenly. "It doesn't really fit you though."

Her contradictory words were a little confusing to him, and he looked at her in curiosity.

"How can they make me look handsome, and yet not suit me?" he asked her.

"It's... difficult to explain," she admitted as she looked away for a moment. "Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything. It's simply... it looks nice. It seem light and decent to fight in. Not primary for protection, but there's a freedom of movement to the design. There's a certain grace about it. I'm just not used to thinking about you in anything but armor that's all steel and clanking loudly. It doesn't suit what I remember of you."

"The fact that the design is Orlesian then?" he asked her.

"So's the dress I'm wearing," she admitted. "They put art to everything. There's nothing wrong with looking fancy, though I would never wear this into battle. At least that has some use to it. Why? Do you not like it?"

"I've gotten used to it," he admitted. "But no, I don't. Not especially. Truth be told, I find the idea of a uniform for an order that spends most of its time underground and fighting the Maker damned darkspawn to be a bit pointless. They insisted I have it though, and there are so many variations. I actually have three myself. One is just for official events or social engagements that I can't get out of."

"Lots of those?" she asked with a smile.

"More than I'm comfortable with," he answered. "That one I always keep clean. It's never seen battle. I also have one I wear when I know I'm going into battle or to the Deep Roads. It has stains that will not come off even with magic. Less of a hassle to worry about, and then there's this one. It's the middle ground one for everyday wear. Not too pristine, but I could meet a dignitary in it if I had to."

"Sounds complicated," she admitted.

"That's nothing. There are some Wardens there who have ten or so," Loghain snorted. "They're unbelievable at times."

"I'm sure you're happy to be here where things are a little more down to earth," she guessed.

"You have no idea."

Just then Gratna came back with two wine glasses and the bottle of their drink. She poured for them before leaving the bottle and with one last bow, left. Solona picked up her own glass and watched Loghain over the top. Her eyes followed as he took a sip of the liquid and smiled softly. Part of her had been worried that talking to him would have been harder than this. When she'd been trying to figure out just what he was to her she'd been able to have civil conversations with him, but after the incident in his bed she'd felt like such a child in comparison.

A large part had been terrified she'd still feel that way, that hiding behind the letters had been the only reason she could still talk to him. A relief washed over her when she realized that was not the case. She felt more like his equal now, speaking on an even level.

Solona prayed to the Maker for a brief second with the hopes he saw her as an equal too.

"So, how has the hunt for the monsters been going in Orlais?" she asked him as she spun the thin glass handle between her fingers as she kept a steady eye on him. "Well, I hope."

"Nothing nearly as exciting as what you've faced," he admitted. "The bands are getting smaller, and we've been tracking brood mothers and slaying them as fast as we could. It's a sick sight, and to know what the darkspawn do to those poor women. It's a good thing to know we are able to put them out of their misery."

"I remember the first time I learned what they were, back as Ostagar," she admitted. "It was... terrifying. I think I began to fight darkspawn even harder than before that. His Majesty once said there were never many women in the Wardens. Perhaps that is why."

"In Orlais, the female Wardens we have that begin to experience their Calling are given the option of a ceremonial suicide, rather than go to the Deep Roads and risk such a fate instead of just fighting to the death. Have you something similar here?" he asked her.

"So far, I haven't been faced with anyone experiencing it. The bright side of so many being freshly recruited. I'll have to make that an option though," she said before shuddering. This was not exactly a topic appropriate for what she'd had planned for him. Just why had brought up those things anyway? "Perhaps we should pick a better topic. After all, those creatures aren't meant for discussions over wine and lunch in the middle of the day."

"I agree," he said solemnly. "It's too dark a topic for now. Have you been to the Circle recently? I've heard they rebuilt wonderfully."

"They have," she replied with a smile. "It's been slow going and hard work, but rewarding. I was there recently actually. The templars and mages have been working hard to bring it back to its former glory, which I think is a good sign. There's been a lot of unrest in many of the Circles lately, mostly due to a lack of trust. The two sides are so parallel to one another, yet so many people on each side think the other is the enemy. It's where so many problems stem from. Corrupt templars that abuse their charges, and mages that turn to blood magic in order to free themselves. It's a horrible cycle, and it's not why the Circle was formed. I'm hoping with this example of the two sides helping each other, it will help smooth over tension."

"Is the tension bad then?" he asked her. He had never paid much attention to mages himself. He'd never had a reason to before meeting this woman.

"Yes and no," she said. "There are a lot of radical movements, people who believe we should break away from the Chantry entirely. It's mostly all discussion at this point, but there's already been two failed votes. Mages being shut down are feeling like their voices don't matter and it's making compromise difficult. There are so many that feel like slaves, and they want freedom."

"What about you?" he asked quietly. "Do you feel like a slave?"

"I... I don't know," she admitted. "I am a Grey Warden, and thus immune to many of the rules of the Circle's law. Without the title the Order provides me, I would never be able to hold land or a manor like this. I understand it's not really mine. It's something I inherited with the position of Commander. If I am removed and replaced, or if I die, it will go to the next in line for control. I don't actually own any of it. I'm allowed to go wherever I want however. I will never have to worry about Templars dragging me back, but I am and always will be a mage. I've seen the outside world and it made the Circle seem so small. I wasn't like other children who were brought in who could remember their life from before. I'm told that my magical capabilities showed themselves almost immediately after my birth, only a few months.

"I actually have three siblings, all of them born in the city Nathaniel was in, Kirkwall. I always knew my family was noble. They're mentioned in several history books covering a past Blight. I didn't know any specifics though, about my parents or siblings until I was able to go out and see the world with my own two eyes."

"You have siblings?" he asked with interest. "Where are they?"

"In different towers. Family contact is discouraged. I had an older sister. She would have been in her upper twenties by now, and she died in the Blight. I also have two brothers, a set of twins. They were both made Tranquil," she explained.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

She looked down at the table for a moment before shaking her head.

"I used to believe so much in my home, and the rules I was taught. I still lead my whole life by them," Solona stated. "There's a lack of freedom though I never knew existed until I left. The Ferelden Circle was one of the best. Once you're past your harrowing, you can travel with permission to just about anywhere so long as you have reason to. I thought it was like that everywhere, but there are Circles that I've heard pure nightmares about. It's something that desperately needs fixing, but it's not something the Chantry will allow."

She suddenly sighed and took a sip of her wine.

"Our conversations turn so dour so quickly," she said with a laugh, but to Loghain, it sounded forced. "Why do you think that is?"

"Probably because we lead very dour lives," he guessed.

"Then we should try harder to celebrate our good fortunes when given the chance," the mage informed him before downing her glass and pouring another for herself. "Top you off?"

He gave a throaty chuckle and nodded, holding his out for her to pour. He noticed her fingers trailed over the long neck of the bottle after she'd finished, setting it down on the table and playing idly with it. He was about to ask her if she was in thought about what they'd been talking about when their lunch came and the conversation was effectively killed for the moment.

They ate mostly in silence, the stew thick and hot going down his throat. It was a simple meal, but filling and warm. Much better than Orlesian dishes there were small servings with dribbles of sauce on the plate that barely filled anyone. He always had to eat again right after, but this was filling. There was certainly something to be said about comforting home cooked food.

"You must have been starving," she said once he had a third bowl. She'd had only two herself, surely more than she'd eaten before her Joining. "Do you need more? Perhaps another loaf of bread?"

"No, this was enough," he said, feeling satisfied. "Thank you. You've been a very good hostess so far."

"You have a few weeks here. Don't get too impressed too quickly," she said with a smirk. "You must be tired though. Would you like to rest?"

"Yes, I think sleep on an actual bed would be wonderful," he admitted. It was in the middle of the day, but he'd pushed himself hard to get back as soon as possible. A day just to relax would be welcome, even if he didn't need to sleep the whole time. Just laying down would be a welcome respite.

"I'll have a bath drawn for you before dinner, so you can relax your muscles a little and wash up," she informed him. "Let me show you where your room is."  
He was actually familiar enough with the manor she could have just told him and he would have been able to find it himself, but she seemed to be taking her duties as seeing to him as a guest seriously. He couldn't help but note his quarters were right across from the master bedroom. Was that where she was sleeping? Surely she wouldn't take one of the smaller rooms. He almost asked, in case he needed to find her later but held back. Something prickled in the back of his mind that wouldn't be appropriate.

Which was utterly ridiculous. It was not as if there was anything wrong with wanting to know where he could find her if he needed to, and she probably would not even mind answering. He'd spent too much time amongst the Orlesians if he was getting so caught up on what was civil and polite amongst his own friend. Next thing he'd be insisting she have six different sets of forks and spoons set out for dinner if he was so used to such ridiculous levels of propriety. Clearly he needed to just lay down.

"Well, I will see you at dinner," he said. "We have some time to prepare for all the lavish things my daughter has planned. I'm sure it will be very busy."

"Yes, I'm sure it will," she said softly before she laid a hand on his arm, her fingers tracing gently against the scalemail sewn into his blue leather top. "Welcome home, Loghain."

She leaned in suddenly to press a kiss to his cheek and smiled a little before turning and walking away. He watched her leave, unable to keep himself from noticing the sway to her hips as she sauntered off. Had she always walked like that? Easy not to notice before when she'd been so skinny and small. He suddenly muttered a small curse for staring and went into his room, determined to get some sleep and ignore the warm feeling settled in his skin after she'd kissed him.

End of Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skinny little Solona Amell. She grew up. She filled out.
> 
> Pffft, okay now that I'm done quoting the Sin City film for my fanfiction (because Loghain as Hartigan does something to my feels) I hope this was enjoyable. I think I already know this is going to be a bit longer than five chapters, writing it now, because Loghain and Amell talking is just too much fun. I'd first intended her just to start flirting with him the second he hit the door when I envisioned this fic, but it's clearly not going that way. There's just too much for them to share, deep discussion to have, just to jump straight to smut.
> 
> Don't worry though. There will in fact be smut coming. Oh, there will be smut galore.
> 
> In any case, if you could be so kind as to review and share your thoughts. You will be loved forever.


	3. Maintain Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably one hundred percent cock teasing, just so you now. Even though nothing really happens, I still blushed through most of it. To me, being erotic is not just the act of sex, as fun as it can be to write. It's the moments before that really matter, the build up. Characters wanting things without saying it, just letting the moment speak for itself.
> 
> There is a lot of it in this chapter, and I swear it was both fun to write, and nerve wracking. I was so sure any moment someone would look over my shoulder and think I was doing something dirty because I was grinning so much.
> 
> Enjoy the silly depravity, and remember I don't own Dragon Age. But wow, I wish I did sometimes.

Chapter 3: Maintain Control

By the time Loghain awoke, it was late at night. Darkness and shadow covered the room like shear black curtains, fluttered a little from a source of light. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed and he saw a candle on the nightstand next to his bed, lit with a plate of dinner made of meats and potatoes covered in gravy waiting for him along with some ale and bread. There was also a small note tucked underneath the plate that he picked up and unfolded to read.

 _'You seemed to_ _o_ _tired to wake up, so I ha_ _d_ _the servants just leave you be. Please enjoy dinner. I sent word to_ _Queen_ _Anora about your arrival. She wants to have breakfast with you so I might not see you until the afternoon.'_

The plate was still warm, but barely. He could only assume the food had been left for him about an hour ago or so. He didn't set to eating right away, instead looking up at the moving shadows. At first he thought they had been cast by small candle but they were moving too much for such a small flame. He looked over to the large window that opened up into a balcony, seemingly bathed in light, and moved to inspect it.

The balcony was on the side of the building and right around a corner the courtyard in the back of the manor was about halfway in view. It was alight with a large bonfire in the middle, and in front of it, someone stood. For a second Loghain didn't realize just who it was, until ice began to form over the fire, flakes of snow filling the air and pulled together in the air, forming a little blizzard right above the flickering flames.

Oh, it was Solona. Was she practicing her magic?

The ice grew larger and larger in the air until it was about the size of a large rock. He watched in curiosity as she held her hands out in front of herself. Her fingers flexed and layers of snow wrapped around the ice over and over. Even far away, he could see her tremble slightly. She was dressed in only a light shirt and pants, her hair in a sloppy ponytail and he wondered if she was feeling the heat or if the magic she was casting was keeping her cool.

There had to be a lot of power there, to keep the ice solid, even as the flames licked at it. He didn't see it melt or decrease in size at all. Was she doing that all by herself? It was an amazing feat.

He'd often heard the tales of the power of mages. It was a large part of the Chantry, to keep both magic and mages under control. Like any other man, he believed in the Maker and His teachings, but he'd never concerned himself with the issue often. Magic was to be contained by the templars, and he was certainly no templar.

The power of magic had never truly concerned him before, until she'd faced him. When she'd elected to fight him at the Landsmeet as Alistair's champion, he had scoffed at the little girl in front of him. He'd never believed for a second she could have beaten him.

Her moves had been precise and controlled, like any soldier practicing his swings and moves. She'd formed ice around him, freezing his movements and hurling fire at him when he'd been unable to move. The very forces of nature itself had listened to her, all seemingly from a wave of her fingers. The young woman less than half his age had defeated him and wrestled control of a country out of his grasp. The Chantry was right to fear them, yet she had a grace about her that didn't seem threatening. Solona had no desire to destroy anything, and even less of a desire to rule. She truly did all she did out of a sense of duty. A snap of her thin wrists could probably end a man's life, and yet she did everything she could to preserve it.

He'd always heard that power corrupted so easily, and yet he had never seen it affect her. Did she have no weaknesses at all?

He watched her thrust her hands up suddenly, the ice shooting up into the sky and bursting apart. She laughed a little as she twirled around, the magic suddenly snowing around her. She stopped short though at seeing him watching her, frozen by his gaze as easily as she had once trapped him with her very magic.

Loghain couldn't make out her expression from so far away, but noticed the magic shift immediately. The slow falling flakes suddenly hit the fire, melting in an instant. He knew she was looking at him, even if he couldn't make out the exact look on her face.

She suddenly left the clearing, heading back into the house and he could not see her around the corner anymore. Should he not have been watching? For her to leave so suddenly without acknowledging him seemed strange. He had expected at least a wave or something.

He went to his dinner and ate slowly, wondering what had just happened. He half expected her to come to his room to talk to him, but she never came.

It was oddly disappointing.

#-#

The next morning was warmer than he was expecting when Loghain left for the castle. He'd looked around for Solona to say good morning, but he'd been informed by the servants she was already out running errands. Just what she could possibly need to do so early in the morning that she couldn't send her servants out for was beyond him, but he didn't bother to ask. He would just catch her later on.

He had not planned on it, but he wore his Grey Warden armor for the visit. He felt he was there mostly to represent the Wardens. This festival was to mark the end of the Blight after all, which his Order had brought about. It seemed his duty to represent them as best as possible, even if he was sure people would be more interested to see Solona rather than himself.

Anora was waiting for him, and he bowed a little before he sat down with her, servants moving around to pour their drinks and set food in front of them.

"Hello, Father," she said with a smile. "It's so good to have you home for a while."

"Thank you. I wasn't expecting the invitation," he said. "It was a pleasant surprise though."

"Oh yes. I'd heard Commander Amell had asked you to come," she said as she took a biscuit and spread some butter over it. "I'll have to thank her for that later on. I had thought she'd use her invitation to being Nathaniel Howe or something. He's become her second-in-command, you know?"

"I'm sure his father is rolling in his grave," he said with a smirk. "Good for him. I'm not sure why Solona asked me home. I didn't bother to ask her, though I'll admit I was curious about it. I'd just assumed she had asked for my sake, give me a chance to come home for a short while."

"Solona?" she asked. "I was unaware you referred to her as such. What's wrong with Commander Amell?"

"She's hardly my commander," he said. He looked at her when her daughter gazed him with open curiosity. "What?"

"Nothing," Anora said, giving a small shrug. "I'm just surprised. I didn't know you were on first name basis with her. When I heard about you two writing one another, I assumed it was only so she could give you information about the Grey Wardens in the area. Of course, she always called you Loghain, but she's not exactly proper for the nobility around here."

"We have become friends over the time," he explained. "Does that surprise you?"

"Hmmm, I suppose not. She has a charm about her, I suppose. An honesty that seems refreshing at court, although I think half the time she wants to get killed, the way she talks so bluntly," she said. "I can see though how such honesty is appreciated by you. You always did like that trait in people, Father. You aren't going to stat comparing her to King Maric, are you? It seems a habit for those you think highly of."

"No, she's nothing like Maric," Loghain said as he shook his head. "Maybe as honest, but those are the only two things they would have in common. Speaking of Maric though, how is his boy? I take it from the fact the country hasn't burned down, Alistair is able to keep himself from accidentally doing anything too rash."

"He's... proven better at politics than I would have thought," she admitted. "He's a good man, though hard headed. He always believes his way is the best way to do things, and he hardly listens to me. It makes things difficult at times."

"Sounds like you," Loghain said with a bit of a chuckle. "You haven't tamed him like you did with Cailan?"

"Probably because she can't find a treat to make me roll over like my brother," Alistair stated coldly from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest from where he was standing at the door. Some servants immediately went up to him to ask him if he needed anything, but he waved them off.

"Alistair!" Anora gasped as she stood up suddenly. "I thought you were going to be inspecting the guards this morning on the training grounds. What are you doing here?"

"Well the smell of cinnamon toast was too hard to resist," he said with a smirk before it fell to a frown. "That and the stink of treachery."

"Alistair," Loghain said, not bothering to stand.

"Loghain," he answered back bitterly before looking back at his wife. "This is the first time this week when I had an excuse to not meet you for breakfast you didn't throw a fit. I thought I'd come to see why. I guess you had a guest. Did I interrupt?"

"I wasn't trying to hide him from you," Anora said, a bit of anger on the edge of her voice.

"Oh, I never said you were," he replied casually. "Clearly this is the day to parade killers about the breakfast table. You should have informed me, Anora. I would have happily dug up Howe and propped him up next to his friend. The conversations would have been riveting, though granted Howe might have needed a ventriloquist so as not to be left out."

"How long have you been waiting to use that joke, boy?" Loghain asked casually as he drank his juice. "Been wanting to unleash your horrid humor for when you saw me next for a while now?"

"Oh, you have no idea what I've wanted to unleash on you, Loghain," Alistair stated coldly. "What is he doing here?"

"Why do you think, Alistair?" Anora snapped.

"He's here for the celebration? Are we to raise thanks to him? Oh gee, Loghain. Good thing you stopped your civil war that was killing everyone just in time for us to be able to defend ourselves. We owe you so much," he asked his wife mockingly as she glared at him.

"As a matter of a fact, he is," she said defiantly. "He is my father. I have every right to see him."

"So you asked him to come?!" the king snapped. "You really think the people here want to see him? I'm not the only one who believes his head belongs on a chopping block, Anora! He nearly killed us all!"

"I did not invite him! I had nothing to do with it!" Anora replied angrily before actually looking smug at him as she placed her hands on her hips. "As a matter of fact, it was your sweet little Commander Amell who asked him here."

"Solona asked him?" Alistair asked, seeming to falter for a second. "She did? Why?"

"Probably to see a friend," she said with a satisfied look in her eyes. "Haven't you heard? The two have become quite close."

"She knows how I feel about him," he muttered. "She wouldn't have rubbed him in my face like this."

"I told her she could have a guest when I wrote out her invitation. She was the one who chose my father," she sniffed haughtily. "Clearly she doesn't care as much about your feelings as you seem to think she does."

"Anora," Loghain cut in as he stood up. "Don't fan the flames, darling. I'll see myself out."

"But, Father," she protested, but he cut her off.

"I am not wanted here, and I'm not going to press my welcome," he said. Actually, he just didn't want to sit there and listen to the pair of them argue about the magic user. He was starting to suspect he could see where the problems between the two were, and he had a feeling he had little to actually do with it. Solona was dear to him, but Anora was dearer. He'd hate to think she was coming in between the two. He'd feel the urge to do something about it, and he was trying to keep to his no interference policy.

From the way Solona had spoken about Alistair, he'd often wondered if she loved him. Perhaps the marriage had left her feeling like the other woman, the odd one out while Anora had the prize of the bastard prince turned king. He'd felt sympathy for her, being in such a situation. If it was revealed to him his poor daughter also feeling left out, losing Alistair to another woman he had a feeling he wouldn't be so kind to Solona.

It was honestly just best for him to keep out of it. The three of them could work out their own affairs without his interference, especially since he seemed to be a point of contention between Alistair and the two young women.

"I'll be taking my leave now," he said, kissing his daughter on the forehead. "I will see you later."

The door wasn't even closed before they began to yell at each other and he rolled his eyes.

"I hope you're happy! You drove my father out of my own home!"

"Oh! I'm ecstatic! Every time I see him walk away, free from his crimes, I do a little jig!"

Oh Maker. Loghain rubbed at his temples and left, shaking his head. He was so happy he was too old to be pulled into nonsense like this.

#-#

Solona was back by the time he reached her home. She was in her study, several parchments on her desk that she was standing over, scribbling on with a quill, her fingers a little stained with black ink. This time, she was not dressed in some fancy gone, instead robes of a the Circle, a long white and light purple thing with a hood tossed off of her head and cascading over her shoulders.

"Hard at work?" he asked her, causing her to look up.

"Loghain. I wasn't expecting you back so soon," she said. "Did you have a good visit with the queen?"

"I did, until her husband showed up," he informed her honestly and she winced a little.

"Did they fight?" she asked.

"I'm surprised they didn't start throwing the plates at each other," he said. "It seemed wise to come back early."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he told her. "The things I did are what I have to live with, no one else. There will always be those that think I deserved worse than I received. It was foolish of Anora not to warn him I was coming."

"She... she didn't tell him?" Solona asked him in confusion.

"Apparently not."

"I would have thought... I mean she..." she muttered before sighing. "I swear, sometimes it seems like she enjoys pushing his buttons."

"This happen often, I take it?" he asked.

"Who knows?" she replied before shrugging. "I haven't spoken to the king in... I don't even remember how long ago it was. It's hard to approach him when he loathes me so."

"What?"

"He's made no attempt to hide it," she explained. "I imagine it was the talk of the court for a while, our falling out. Not that it matters now. I receive my orders from my superiors, my king and my queen. That's all I really need. He's a good leader. That's what matters. Why go to him when he would probably just glare at me and not say anything?"

That was not the impression he'd seen when the king had spoken about her, but he didn't mention it. Again, he had to remind himself that it was not in his place to pry. He especially didn't want to start telling the woman he theorized loved that oaf he certainly didn't seem to hate her as much as she thought. It might just be the opposite actually.

Oh yes, that would do wonders for the marriage.

"It's better that I keep myself occupied than worry about that kind of thing anyway," she said as she turned the parchment she'd been working on to show him. It was a map of Vigil's Keep. "We're still rebuilding. It might take years to get it back to the way it should be. We have temporary defenses of course, enough for the directionless darkspawn, but it still needs work. I want to try to rebuild it better this time too. The dwarves have some marvelous ideas for the stonework, and I've been thinking about perhaps asking the Circle for enchantments."

"Why not enchant the keep yourself?" he asked, making her laugh.

"Loghain, I'm just a single woman. I couldn't cast and maintain the charms all by myself. Even long lasting spells need maintenance to upkeep. You honestly think I could handle all of that alone?" she asked him.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "You're more powerful than any woman I've ever met. I've seen you accomplish much more than things like that."

Solona flushed a little as she looked down on the papers. He watched her wipe at her hands with a nearby clothe, trying to clean them.

"I... thank you," she whispered. "It means a lot to me, to hear such praise from a man like you."

"Like me?" he asked. "You defeated me once before, you know."

"You say it like it was easy. I can assure you, it was anything but. Besides, you are an admirable man, Loghain. You're an inspiration to many people. You saved this country with the king, gave your all to Ferelden all your life. You risked condemning your own soul in the Maker's eyes to save this land."

"And nearly destroyed it," he pointed out.

"I won't deny there are mistakes in your history, but that short and dark time in your life should not overshadow the good you have done and that you have continued to do. There are plenty who could just say they messed up and just give up. It takes a lot of courage to keep going like you have," she said. She glanced down at the desk as she heard him approach her. He stood over her and her eyes met his gaze, not flinching away.

"There are plenty here that would not agree with me. They think the only way I can pay for what I did is with blood."

"They're wrong. Your death wouldn't have accomplished nothing back then, and it wouldn't accomplish anything now. Besides, they've lost sight of what you are."

"And what am I, Solona?" he asked her, leaning over her. He planted his hands on the desk behind her on either side of her hips so she could not escape this time like she had the night before. Her words seemed too flattering, too eager to forgive. Even though she had said this plenty in letters, for some reason he didn't believe it when face to face with her. He had committed terribly crimes. No one save Anora could have possibly blamed her if she'd chosen to cut him down two long years ago.

"A good man," she breathed, her chest heaving a little under her robes. He didn't mean to glance down and see it, but he was so close to her now, she was almost brushing against him with ever breath. Was he intimidating her? She seemed to be having problems keeping her breathing under control.

"It can't possibly be that simple to you," he challenged with a little growl. "Nothing is that easy, not in the lives people like us lead."

"I think you and I both know that being a good person is probably the farthest thing from being easy," she said before she laid a hand on his chest. "Underneath all that pride and armor, I've seen you, Loghain. I know what you really are. Faltering, even as horribly as you did, does not change the fact you are trying."

His gloved hand slowly traced over hers. She was so touchy now. She hadn't been like that before. Just what was going through her head?

"Loghain..." she breathed, inching closer.

"Why did you ask me here?" he asked her suddenly.

She stopped short, looking up at him, confusion coloring her eyes.

"What? What do you mean?"

"It's a simple enough of a question."

She paused a second and her hand dropped down from his chest as he backed away from her. The mage seemed to be thinking it over a little bit, as if she didn't know herself, but he had a feeling that wasn't the case. The look on her face, it was like she was warring with herself a bit.

"Because I missed you," she confessed finally.

"It had nothing to do with Alistair then?"

"What could it have possibly done with His Majesty?" she asked, seeming confused.

He considered telling her about the fight between Alistair and Anora. It had occurred to him perhaps Solona had asked him here in order to cause problems between the husband and wife in order to drive him between them and pluck up Alistair for herself. For a brief moment he'd been reminded of that whore of an Empress Celene, vying for Cailan's affections, caring nothing for pushing Anora away from him. Could Solona really be like that, underneath her sweet face and understanding personality? Had all those letters, building a friendship with him just been a ploy to try to destroy a marriage she herself had suggested. Put Alistair on the throne and then slide into Anora's place when the man got tired of her?

"Perhaps I should go back," he suggested, watching her carefully for a reaction. "Fight or no, I did come to see my daughter."

"Really?" she asked, her disappointment obvious. "Actually, I was hoping we could spend the day together. Besides, they should have time to calm down. They need to be able to learn to compromise with one another if they're ever going to grow. It's whats best for them."

"You believe that might help them?" he asked.

"I don't think being pushed between them could help in the slightest," she stated honestly. "And to be frank, I didn't invite you here to see your daughter. That might be why you came here, but my motives are entirely different."

"And those motives are?"

"Like I said, Loghain. I missed you. Is it that odd for a woman to want the company of a decent man?" she asked him.

He snorted and shook his head.

"Your humor is even worse than your king's. You need better jokes," he said as he turned away and walked out. He didn't see the look of hurt on her face as he left before she trailed after him.

"I don't recall joking," she sighed softly.

The rest of the morning went by peacefully, the mood quiet and calming. She gave him a little bit of a tour of the manor, what was in use anyway. Not many things had changed, several of the rooms the same, but she'd taken to decorating and changing the few rooms that she did have an affinity with it. Like her office, the main hall had been changed, the large paintings of the Howe's removed. Given to Nathaniel so she told him. The suits of armor remained though, many of them the Howe family crest, but they weren't as well polished as they'd once been.

The library was what she'd changed the most. Now most of the tomes were on magical theory, spells and several leather bound books she revealed were her own grimoires or ones she'd collected over the years from other mages. There was a decent collection of them, but he had a feeling if he opened any of them, it would all be gibberish to him. There were still plenty of the old books though, history and laws of the land, some of them laying open and recently looked over.

"You've been studying," he noted.

"It's a good idea to have an idea just what to expect when it comes to politics," she explained. "Can't be too prepared, even as much as it doesn't suit me."

"You seem to do fine enough with it. You made Alistair king after all," he pointed out.

"I ran around like a wild nug, collecting evidence and praying half the time," she said with a bit of a chuckle. "I'm not nearly sneaky enough to do half the things some of these nobles pull off. I just try my best to keep the peace in Amaranthine and keep the people happy. I think the fact I've never shown many personal ambitions helped. I keep out of trouble because most of them don't figure I'm worth bothering with."

"That's a way to get around trouble," he agreed.

"It's all about control, not power," she said. "It's just like my magic. It's important to keep things balanced. To truly master magic, you have to be able to contain the spell, not unleash it. Those lessons can be applied to many things in life."

"What do you mean?"

"Mmmm, how to explain it," she said as she looked around for something that would provide a good example. She plucked up a small bookend and looked at it for a moment before she shook her head and put it back. She then grabbed an hour glass that had been resting on one of the upper shelves, standing on her tip toes and stretching in a way that made her outfit pull a little too tightly against parts of her body. Loghain couldn't help but think there should be more space for her breasts in that thing, especially they way it clung so close.

"Alright, here," she said, showing him the glass when she'd collected it. "The sand in here is precisely measured, meant to count time. If there wasn't an exact amount of sand in there, it would in effect be broken, right? The same can be said for the opening that allows the sand to flow. This is measure and created to be just so, in order to do its job correctly."

"Of course."

"Now, imagine this glass in the body of a mage," she instructed, "and the sand is the energy moving through us. The more sand there is, the longer it can go, but we must keep a tight focus on it, or it wouldn't move through us at a proper pace. Make the funnel too big, and all the sand falls through in a moment. A strong, uncontrollable burst in an instant. This is usually what causes accidents with young mages. They have the power, but no control. Most mages understand this. To make the most of our talents, we need to learn to control it, focus it and let it flow the way we need it to. Some mages however, think the answer is to get more power, to put more sand in. Not necessarily wrong, but the problem with that kind of thinking is that those kind of mages will usually do anything for power. Blood magic, deals with demons, any shortcut because they don't have the patience for control and then slowly building power like we're taught. When that happens... imagine someone putting more and more sand into the glass, even to the point where it's full. Keep trying to force it, and eventually the glass shatters."

"Yet so many try it?" he asked her.

"Yes," she admitted. "That's the problem. It's easy to look at a sand glass and see when it shouldn't take any more. It's much harder with ourselves. Some mages tell themselves they can take it, even when they can't. Magic can urge people to push the boundaries, and sometimes going over those boundaries too quickly is fatal."

"I would imagine learning discipline would be easy, once you understand the theory," he said. "Is that not true?"

"Oh no. It is easy to learn," she assured him. "The problem is maintaining it. Even master spell casters have to practice occasionally. It's not hard, like a breathing exercise, but it makes casting much easier if you take the time to practice once in a while."

"I see," he said. "Do you?"

"Yes," she answered, glancing away for a moment. "Last night in fact, when you saw me. That's actually what I was doing. The point of that wasn't to form the snow over the fire, but to maintain it. Keep it cold without melting over the fire. If it turned to water, it would put out the fire, and if the fire wasn't strong enough there wouldn't be a challenge. It's all in finding the balance."

"It seems difficult," he admitted. "You do this all the time?"

"No. Only when I need to find my focus again. In stressful times or when I let myself get too distracted. Most of the time for a mage it's not that hard to keep the magic from going wild, but it's wise to use precautions when you know you're getting a little off kilter."

Her fingers traced together as she looked at him, watch him think over everything he had told her. She didn't often get to explain her magic to other people. Most weren't interested. Well, Alistair had been, but he had joked so often through her lectures it was hard to make her point. Besides, he seemed to know enough about magic to fight it. It wasn't like he had ever needed to understand more, but Loghain seemed honestly curious, listening to her give her little lecture.

"Can you give me a practical demonstration?" he asked her suddenly.

"Wait. What?" Solona asked in surprise. "Really?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Well, no. Not really," she admitted. "I usually practice my spells in the back. We can do it there."

She led him out of the library, a little taken off guard by his asking, but in a good way. That had been a nice surprise to her that he was so interested in what she was saying.

He leaned against the stone walls as he watched her, and she felt oddly nervous. It wasn't that she was worried about losing control or anything in front of him, but even so, she was still putting on a little bit of a show for him. She wanted to impress him.

Often when she went through her exercises, she used ice. It was the safest element in her opinion. Lightning had a tendency to be too quick, a flash of intense power and then gone, and fire could get out of control so easily. The point was to focus oneself, and even if the ice did get out of hand it often didn't do much damage that couldn't be reversed.

He had seen her ice already though, and she the primal school of magic was the most difficult to control so therefore the best to practice with.

Running a hand through her hair and feeling a bit foolish but knowing she wanted to do it anyway, she pointed to a tree, a large oak in the middle of the courtyard and snapped her fingers.

Only for it to immediately burst into flames.

Loghain leaped up for a second, but she held up her other hand.

"Relax. It's fine," she assured him.

"It's on fire," he pointed out.

"Yes, I know."

"So, it's supposed to be on fire?" he asked incredulously. "Are you going to burn the whole thing down?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "Look at it, carefully. Are the leaves curling as they burn? Is the trunk blackening? Can you hear the crackling of sparks as it eats the wood?"

"No..." he said after a moment. "I don't. How is that?"

"Because it's not actually burning," she explained. "The flame is overlapping it, right on top but not catching. The trick is to maintain the fire without letting it destroy anything. It's an advanced technique, and not recommended if you think you can't make it work. Ice is safer. Even lightning is safer than fire. Sadly, fire is also the easiest to call forth. It's brought forth by intense anger, primal magic all wrapped up in your feelings. It's why when most children are found out to be mages, it's because they caught something on fire."

"So, why were you doing this last night?" he asked her casually. "Was something upsetting then?"

"Not... exactly," she admitted. "It was something else."

"What was it?"

He'd walked up on her without her noticing, feeling curious about how she was doing it. Her technique really was amazing. She had been learning this since she was a little child? No wonder she was so strong.

"It was... Loghain?" she asked him as he looked at the palm outstretched toward the tree. There was no flame in it, but it still seemed to glow a faint orange and red, as if she were holding the flame in her own hand. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm just wondering how you can do this. Control something so dangerous so easily?" he stated. As his eyes bored into her, it suddenly felt much harder than it had a moment ago.

"We have... focuses when we train... as apprentices," she answered, making herself answer. Suddenly speaking was a little difficult. "We use different things. Candles, chants, poems. Anything we can put our energy on, eventually making ourselves the focus. It's... a bit... complicated."

"So, you never told me why you needed to do this last night," he reminded her gently. "Or is that too much, asking you questions right now? Is this uncomfortable? Should I stop?"

"No. Please don't..." she breathed before shaking her head. "I mean, no. The point is to maintain. I can handle a little distraction."

"So what was it?" he repeated. "Did something happen last night?"

"No. I just... was distracted a bit. It seemed a good idea to just... do it. Just in case," she explained.

She didn't seem to want to explain exactly why she'd needed it. Perhaps asking her right now while she was trying to concentrate wasn't a good idea. The mage no doubt needed to focus.

Looking down at her palm again, he felt a little amazed by the power she could control with it. Something like this was entirely out of his reach, yet she'd lived with it as a part of her for her entire life. Without even thinking about it, he reached out for her and touched her hand, wondering just how much of that heat she was carrying in her hands.

The second he touched her though, she gasped loudly and yanked it away. Her other hand waved over the tree quickly, the fire vanishing immediately.

"I'm sorry! I didn't expect that!" she cried as she pulled away away from him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his concern clear. "I'm sorry, it was my fault. I didn't even think about what I was doing. Are you hurt? Did you burn yourself?"

"No. No I'm fine," she assured him, her face flushed. "I banished the fire before I lost control, so no worries."

"Did my touching you make you lose control?" he asked. "Really?"

"Oh, no," she answered. "I'm not that easy to disrupt. A little touch isn't a problem. I just didn't expect it. It's fine. No worries."

"If you're sure..."

"I am," she insisted. "I think that ends the lesson though. Why don't we do something a little less dangerous to the foliage though? I have a chess set. Would you fancy a game?"

"Sure. That sounds good," he said before he went inside.

Solona nervously watched him go back inside before groaning and rubbing her hands over her face. Maker, that had been close. If he had noticed... Solona didn't even want to think about that.

She peaked between her fingers and looked at the leaves of the tree, almost all of them smoldering and giving off faint wisps of smoke. She hadn't caught it quite in time. The second he'd touched her, the spell had snapped out of her influence, as easily as breaking a thread. It was only her quick thinking that had kept the whole thing going down in an inferno.

It took her a moment or two to steady her breathing before going back in, feeling terribly hot under her clothes now. In her mind, she'd agreed to this whole scheme because she'd wanted him close by. She'd wanted to try to make him care for her, to seduce him and pull him to her bed.

Yet here she was, getting flustered whenever he moved close or touched her.

Solona Amell, Circle Mage, Grey Warden, Commander of the Grey and Hero of Ferelden had never once had a problem with temptation or keeping her powers under wraps. Demons' whispers of power meant nothing to her, yet he could give her one intense gaze and she crumbled.

Loghain was temptation in every way, and even as it was proven to her just how much trouble giving in could be, she still wanted to so badly.

End of Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Solona, you naughty girl. Granted, I think I'd get pretty hot and bothered with him so close to. He really had no idea the effect he has on her, but he's about to learn soon enough.
> 
> Also, I really enjoy writing Alistair and Anora bickering at one another. Which is weird because I enjoy Alistair as a nice guy. Yet when I harden him and marry him to Anora I can't help but think their relationship would be very intense, especially if Loghain is still kicking. The fact Anora has a tendency to do what's best for herself and just expects everyone to accept that, whether they're part of the injured party or not doesn't exactly help and Alistair does nothing if not speak his mind.
> 
> As always, my lovelies, please review. I'm a total whore for those opinions.


	4. When Temptation Comes Knocking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much to say. Just enjoy the fic, and remember Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

Chapter 4: When Temptation Comes Knocking

The days until the festival passed quickly for Loghain, mostly spent in Solona's company. He was her guest after all, so it only made sense, not to mention she had a tendency to get back to work the second he went elsewhere without her and he'd decided firmly to make her relax and take some time off even if he had to force her. Was she even capable of relaxing? He never would have thought she worked this hard. When he'd told her in a letter to focus on her work instead of letting herself worry about her personal life, he hadn't meant her to take it so to heart.

Luckily he never had to put much effort into dragging her away from it. She seemed all too willing to spend time with him, mostly sitting in one of the usable rooms in the manor with a bottle of wine talking and reminiscing over the past or playing a game of some kind. She was utterly awful at Wicked Grace, so even though he was only passable at it, she often lost to him. Chess she was better at, but he had played the game his entire life and was a master at it. She'd never won once, and the mage had a tendency to puff her cheeks out the second she thought she had him, only for him to pull a checkmate on her from some part of the board she hadn't even been looking at.

He found himself letting her get close to victory more and more often just to see that look. It was oddly... enticing the way she would chew on her lip, sucking it into her mouth and hold it with her teeth while she concentrated, only to sulk when she lost. Loghain probably shouldn't tease her as much as he did, but the way she would weakly glare at him, only to meet his grin in response, making her flush and pout, her cheeks a delicate pink while she did so... Well, it sort of added to the fun of the game.

Solona had grown up into a very attractive woman, not that she hadn't been before. She'd always been graceful and pretty, but it was in a very young sort of way. Seeing her and knowing she had so much growing yet to her, she could have only attracted those her own age who would not have seen it or minded. He, on the other hand, had always envisioned her that way when he'd written the letters to her. He had known she would grow up, and yet never had imagined it would be into such a lovely creature. It had been such a stark contrast that he wished he had seen it for himself. Maybe if he had been there while it had happened, watched her change too gradually to notice, it wouldn't have been such a shock to him when he first saw it, and he wouldn't catch himself noticing her so much.

She couldn't be aware of it herself, how she acted around him. She seemed so comfortable with him around, she didn't have any sense of defense about her. Her hands were almost constantly on him, tracing his hair out of his eyes or lingeringly touching while they talked. It had been easier to ignore at first, but he could swear she was doing it more now. He found himself hoping she didn't act like this around other men, so clueless about how she was presenting herself. If he were a weaker man he might have done something about it.

Nothing... particular of course. Just something.

It was better to distract himself when thoughts like that occurred to him, because it wasn't at all proper. Solona was a sweet woman, and clearly an innocent if she thought nothing of getting so close to him in such ways. She was, what, twenty? He would have thought that would be old enough to know just how such things could be taken, but she'd been sheltered most of her life, and thrust into a job that took all her attention afterward. Maybe she just wasn't as grown as she looked.  
It gave him an odd need to protect her, especially when she went out. After all, he was her friend and if she was really so clueless about how to talk to men and keep a bit of distance about herself, who was to say someone wouldn't try to take advantage? Not that she wasn't capable of handling herself with her magic but the thought of someone even trying to touch her made his blood boil.

All around, it was just better he keep close to her at all times before she worked herself to death or ended up stringing some man along unknowingly with her charm... and tight dresses. Maker, how did she breath sometimes? Half the time it looked like the clothing she wore was a good size too small.

It had been particularly bad when she'd gone out dress shopping. According to the schedule of Anora's, there was to be a masquerade at the end of the first week, just on the eve of a full moon. He'd found it utterly Orlesian and wondered just what his daughter was thinking, considering not going at all because even the thought of everyone in masks seemed utterly foolish to him. What if some assassin came in at that time, disguised? When he'd mentioned it to the mage however, she'd immediately declared she had no mask, and how silly of her to forget, and dragged him out to go buy a couple and since they were out she'd have to get a gown to match it.

Despite the dresses Solona had gathered so far, none of them had seemed fancy enough, apparently. They'd all looked fine to him but she'd grabbed him and pulled him out with her before he could even ask just when had she gotten so girly as to be worried about things like if her dress was fancy enough amongst the nobles.

Then she'd started to model for him.

He'd hated every single one, or actually loved them.

Every one she picked was cut too low for her breasts, or too tight around her waist. They showed too much of her smooth shoulders and back, or pushed her backside out too much. These were proper dresses, yet it seemed like every one she wore was an invitation to do something untoward to her. Maker, was she really so clueless?!

"I'm telling you, it doesn't look right," he insisted at the tenth dress. Tenth! They'd been here for hours now!

"How in the world does it not look right?" she asked, hands on her hips and leaning in. He wished she'd stop that, clearly not knowing just what she was doing. Her curves were practically spilling out of it, the material a deep blue silk, cinched around her waist in several layers so it billowed out around her hips, looking larger than her frame actually was because of the petticoats underneath. Silver bows were on several spots on her skirt, with a rather large one right at her chest from the ribbon holding the front of the dress closed. It was so big and bouncy the way it was tied, it just had to be designed to grab the attention of anyone who looked at her, a silent invitation to ogle her breasts. It was actually his favorite on her so far, which of course meant she couldn't possibly wear it out in public.

"Just... don't wear this one," he demanded as he determinedly looked elsewhere. "Try something else."

"Oh for Andraste's ass, Loghain. I'm not trying on another blighted dress!" she proclaimed, her enthusiasm with the shopping clearly dead and gone by now. "If you don't like any of them, I'll pick one myself."

"I liked the one with the green sleeves," he mentioned. That one had been proper. A collar right up to the neck and barely showing any skin except her face. She'd only tried it on to humor him when he'd suggested it, but she'd loathed the color, or so she claimed when she pulled it off and tossed it back to the sale's girl.

"I'm buying this one," she said firmly, her arms crossed and glaring at him. She was daring him to protest, he just knew it.

He only sighed and gave a shrug, turning away when she pressed close to him. What the hell was she doing? Comparing the fabric of his uniform to see if they matched? Of course she had to go for something blue and silver in the long run, nearly identical to his armor.

She gave a groan when he gently pushed her away for her own sake and stomped away to change back into her own clothing again. She picked two masks afterward, a matching set with painted silver feathers attached and blue paint intricately decorating the white masks. He was glad it was finally over, though he didn't relish in her purchase. If he'd had known she would have gone for the dress she'd picked just of of frustration he would have just told her the first one she'd liked was fine.

#-#

Solona was going to kill him. Just how dense could a man be?!

She sat in front of her vanity mirror and tried to calm herself down. Keeping her breathing steady, she repeated a mantra in her head. Control. She needed control. She'd tried to be patient, but he was only here for a short time.

Chewing on her lips and rubbing her legs together, she sighed before her head hit the little desk.

"What am I doing?" she groaned out. This was so utterly stupid. She had been flirting like crazy with him for days now, and he could not get it. How had this man been married before? Was he really so poor at reading women? Did he not get it? She'd thought for sure when she'd begun to wear the dresses for him, he would at least react a little, but he'd been so damn disinterested! She could have gone out there naked and he probably would have had something more interesting to look at!

Clearly she was doing something wrong, but she honestly had no idea what it could be. Wasn't she attractive enough? Didn't she look pretty to him? She was getting to the point where she could have held up a sign that said, "Take me like an Antivan whore, you sex god!" and he'd probably make inquiries about what she wanted for lunch.

It would be easier if he weren't so attractive. It had occurred to her already perhaps this fantasy she had of him was not healthy. Wouldn't it be wise to forget it? There were so many issues that could come up, like him being so much older than her, and the fact that he was Anora's father. She barely had a working relationship with that woman, and this could make things very, very uncomfortable.

Yet every time he smiled at her, her knees went weak. The little grin of his drove her wild, slightly mocking and so very confident. It made her want to kiss him until the world itself ended. It was even better when he was irritated, the scowl that could make her melt. He could smolder like no one else she knew, her underclothes becoming damp whenever he looked at her like that.

Maker save her, but did she want him. She wanted him to touch her in any way she could imagine, bending her over this very vanity and fucking her with her face and breasts pressed into the mirror. Her juices covering his cock as he pushed her to the floor and ordered her to suck him off. All while giving her that horribly attractive glare of his.

"Damn it," she muttered softly to herself. She couldn't do this. If he was not getting her hints, she would just tell him flat out what she wanted. This was not a time to be timid and if he really didn't get what she wanted by now, maybe she would just have to strip him naked and ride him herself until he got the damn hint.  
She stood up and made her way out, determined to give it another try. It wasn't very late, but they'd already had dinner and said good night to one another. The first day of the celebrations started tomorrow and they'd decided it was best to get to bed early since it would no doubt be a full day. It was the perfect opportunity. Slip into his bed, kissing him softly just as he asked her what she needed.

"You, Loghain. I need you. I have for so long. Please... take me?"

Yes, that would work. No man could resist that. She'd whimper a little, bat her eyelashes as she confessed her need for him, press close as he tried to protest about how improper this was and mewl wantonly as she slipped the covers away and touched his naked chest and pleaded for him to take mercy on her and give her what she'd been dreaming of since he'd left.

If after all that, her advances didn't work, then she would kill him. Fair to give him at least one more chance.

She reached his room but she realized he wasn't there. His door was open and she looked inside, but he wasn't in bed or anywhere else. Curious about where he could have gotten off to, she left to go look for him.

The search did not take long, seeing him sitting in the living room on the couch, dressed only in his sleeping pants and tunic. She peeked at him from around the corner, wondering what he was doing out here before she spied a bottle of wine next to him. Drinking? Really?

Her ears caught a little tune, something he was humming, but she didn't recognize it. His voice sounded awfully good though, in the quiet of the dark. It seemed a shame to break it, but she couldn't back down now.

"Loghain?" she asked as she approached him. "Couldn't you sleep?"

He looked up at her and smiled lightly.

"Evening, Solona," he said pleasantly. She couldn't help but notice the bottle was already mostly empty. What had brought this on? "Sit with me?"

She would have anyway, but it was nice to be invited. Tucking her nightgown under her knees, she sat next to him and peered at him in curiosity.

"Hard to believe it's been two years," he murmured. "It seems so long ago now."

"Time is funny like that," she agreed. "It never seems to flow the way you want it to."

"No, it doesn't. The times you want to last seem so short when they're over, and what you wish would leave your memories seem horribly long when you go through them," he said. "I was regent for so short a time, yet it seems like it lasted forever when I think about it. The things I did... the people I hurt..."

"Loghain-" she started before he cut her off.

"You know, I left myself nearly broke by the end of it?" he asked her. "Not the end of the Blight, but by the time I left six months later. I thought about what I'd done, the lives I'd ended and those I'd willingly sold into slavery. There was no way to make it better, but I still had to try. I spent almost everything I had to track down those elves, buy them back from the slavers. I... I never was able to track them all down. Most... but not all. Those that were alive, I spent everything to find them, but not all of them had survived. Some deaths were the sickness I imagine, and they could have died at home in peace if it weren't for me. I try to console myself with the fact most of them made it home, but it doesn't do any good. All of them would have been safe if not for me, and here I am at a celebration that's going to proclaim me a hero."

"You tried to find them?" she asked. "I... I never knew that."

"It seemed like I had to do something," he stated. "To think I once fought so hard to win a war to drive monsters out of this land, only to have become one myself. I love Ferelden, and I hate the people who tried to take it. They wanted to destroy us, to make us victims who were too afraid to fight back. When they tried to bully my father, I was so proud of him for refusing to give them our hard earned money. We weren't rich. They couldn't have gained that much from us, yet they demanded it anyway, just because they could. When they took my mother... what they did to her... I'd never felt so helpless, so angry before. My father tracked the men down and killed them, and for the first time in my life, I realized what kind of animals were at the head of our country. They weren't men, weren't human. They were beasts, all of them begging to be put down. And now... after everything I did to stop them, I became them."

"Loghain, don't say that," she insisted. "It's not the same."

"Isn't it?" he asked her. "People have died because of me, hurt because of me. I told myself I worked to save these lands, yet I tormented its own people to do so. Maric never would have done such things. He would have found a way without such measures that I insisted were necessary."

"You've been drinking too much," she stated, taking the bottle from him. She was oddly surprised when he didn't fight for it. "You're not thinking clearly."

"Yes I am, and I have been since I got here," he stated. "I should never have come back. Denerim is no longer my home. Anora can think I'm a hero all she wants, but it's Alistair's reaction that will meet me when I see the people. They'd not wanted speeches from a traitor such as-"

"Will you stop it?" she snapped at him. Self-pity was one thing, but this was ridiculous. "No one is going to say anything, alright? You are a good man who made bad choices. I'm not saying that makes it right, but if what you said about the elves is true, you've certainly been trying to make it right on your own. Damn you, Loghain. You're not this monster you seem to think you are. You're human. We make mistakes. We stumble. We fall. I saved your life so you could make it right, and that's exactly what you've been doing. Don't sit here and beat yourself up because you think you don't belong here."

"This celebration is not for me," he said. "It's for you. You're the Hero of Ferelden. Who even wants me here?"

"Anora does," she said in exasperation. "She was the one who had the idea to invite you here in the first place."

"What?" he asked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"She asked me to invite you as my guest," she explained, setting the bottle down on the floor firmly as she glared at him. "She didn't want His Majesty to know it was her idea, so she asked me to. She was missing you, wanted you to come home so she could see you again."

"You said you asked me because you wanted my company though," he pointed out.

"Of course I did. I agreed for my own reasons," she informed him. "We both wanted to see you again, Loghain. You have people that wanted you here. Isn't that enough?"

He paused for a second, staring at her before he reached out for her, brushing a hand over her face. This young woman was too kind for him, too sweet. Here he'd been thinking she'd been using him as a ploy to harass his daughter, and she'd been willingly going along with Anora's scheme just for the pleasure of seeing him again? He idly wondered just what he had done to deserve such loyalty from her when she began to kiss him.

It started slowly, her lips pressing against his wrist, warm against his skin. One he could have ignored, but she took his hand in her own and began kissing his wrist again and again. He watched, shocked as she pushed his tunic sleeve up his arm to his elbow to reach more of his flesh with her mouth.

"Solona?" he asked, his voice nearly catching in his throat. "What are you doing?"

"What I should have done eighteen months ago," she whispered as she crawled into his lap. Her nightgown rode up to her knees as she straddled him, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck. Before he could ask what was so important about eighteen months ago, she was kissing him fully on the mouth, her fingers digging into his hair as she did so.

His mind went blank for a second, not sure what was going on. Surely he had passed out, was dreaming or something. Not that he should really be dreaming about her, but it was the only explanation he could come up with. This certainly couldn't be real, after all.  
He closed his eyes, but he could still feel her, and when he opened them again, she was still there. She'd pulled away a bit, no longer kissing him, but looking at him expectantly.

"Well?" she asked when the silence stretched on too long for her to bare.

"Solona..." he breathed, trying to think of what to say. "This isn't a dream, is it?"

"No," she whispered. "It's not a dream."

"Why then?"

"Are you really so clueless?" she asked before she sighed and shook her head. "Forget it. This was clearly a mistake. I shouldn't have assumed..."

She began to climb off of him, but he grabbed her by her wrist and waist, yanking him close to him to keep her in place.

"Why?" he demanded in a growl to her surprised expression. "Tell me."

"Loghain, I don't-"

"I said, tell me," he ordered.

She licked her lips, looking nervous. Even in the dark, he could see the flush of her cheeks as she blushed, not quite able to meet his gaze.

"Because I want you," she confessed. "Desperately. I want you to take me all the time. I can't think of anything else when you're near. It's why I asked you here. It's why I came looking for you tonight. I need you so badly."

"Solona, I'm old enough to be your father," he breathed. "Older. Anora has several years on you."

"What's that matter? We're both adults, and because of the taint, neither of us will live longer than a decade from now anyway," she said. "I can't marry, can't have children even if the taint didn't make me almost barren. I can't have anything else but things like this, moment of pleasure I can steal when no one is looking. Is it really so wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong with it. I just... I'm so..."

"Attractive. Hot beyond words. Everything I want in a man," she purred as she pressed close. He could feel her chest against his own, rubbing a little against him. "Shall I go on?"

"All this time... you were... Those things you did were on purpose?" he asked, it finally clicking into place. Here he'd thought she was just utterly innocent, too much for her own good, and she'd been trying to entice him the whole time?

"I thought you'd never get it," she whispered before resting her forehead against his own. "I want you, Loghain. Please. I'll beg you if that's what you want. I'm not too proud of a woman to be on my knees for you."

"T-that won't be needed," he managed, his breath catching in his throat as she began rubbing her bottom against his lap. His hand still on her hip tightened and she gave a soft moan, her lips so close to his own. Even if the thought of her kneeling in front of him could be resisted, what she was doing couldn't be. He kissed her hungrily, the wine in his system no doubt urging him on. He couldn't take this, her teasing and resist her, not when he couldn't think of a reason why he shouldn't.  
Maybe if he could think clearer he would have. One would think there would be a whole list of reasons to say no, but they were all blown away when her tongue slipped into his mouth and invited him to play with her. He broke. He was still a man after all.

She squeaked in surprise when his hands suddenly found her bottom, rubbing at her hungrily, and make her practically dance in his lap. She could feel him beginning to get aroused and she eagerly ground herself against him. Once he got into it, she found he was a marvelous kisser, better than she had ever dreamed. His tongue was everywhere and so demanding, forcing her to go at his pace, but it was a pace she didn't mind in the least.

The mage almost hated Morrigan for having this body first. She remembered the woman claiming he'd been horrible during the ritual, barely able to satisfy her and had lasted such a short time. She didn't know what in the world the witch had been talking about. This felt fantastic!

"We're never going to get any sleep at this rate," he growled against her lips in a way that made her shiver in delight. "We have somewhere to be tomorrow."

"We'll be late," she said quickly. "I don't care. Just keep kissing me, please."

"And here I thought you knew nothing about the opposite sex," he chuckled before he began to plant little kisses upside her neck. She writhed against him as he worked her over, every kiss making her pant a little harder, every squeeze at her ass making her jump against his cock. "To think this whole time you were trying to seduce me."

"You didn't notice?" she gasped in surprise.

"Believe me, I was trying very hard not to," he assured her before giving her a soft smack on her bottom, making her squeal. "Trying to make a man over twice your age aroused with this body of yours, all to bed you. Have you no shame?"

"None," she gasped, hoping desperately that's what he wanted to hear. "None at all."

He pushed her dress up to her hips and his fingers slipped underneath her small clothes to kneed her ass directly. She arched her back, shoving herself into his hands and moaned so loudly he was sure the servants would hear. He should have been worried about that, but somehow it didn't bother him as much as it normally would have.

Not that he was in the habit of sleeping with unattached woman, half drunk in the middle of the night.

The thoughts about the servants hadn't been enough to stop him, but that certainly was.

"Wait!" he hissed suddenly, yanking his hands away from her and grabbing her hands just as she'd begun to tug his shirt off. "We can't."

"Sure we can," she purred happily. "I'm a naughty girl, Loghain. Don't worry about corrupting me."

Maker, she thought he was playing hard to get. He leaned back just as she tried to kiss him again, shaking his head firmly.

"No, I'm serious. This isn't going to happen," he told her. "Not tonight."

"What?" she asked, shocked. "Why not? What did I do?"

"Nothing," he assured her quickly. "Solona, I'm just not... I don't know if I can. I'm not thinking clearly right now. Too much wine."

"Then drink more," she ordered him, and he couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "It's just I'd rather wait until I know for sure."

She sat there for a minute, seeming clearly disappointed. The same pout she wore when she lost a game was on her face again, and he had to admit, it was just as cute now.

"So... you just need time? This isn't a no?" she asked. "If you know you want this, why wait?"

"I don't know yet," he corrected her. "I think I do, but not for sure. I'd rather consider this when I know I'm of a clear mind."

For a minute she said nothing, clearly thinking it over herself. He wondered a bit if she would jump him, make him take her anyway, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to resist if she did. Finally though, her shoulders slumped and she nodded her consent.

"Fine," she grumbled. "If that's what you need, I'll wait."

He gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead to appease her, then walked her to her room. For a second, she didn't go in, just stared up at him and reached out to stroke his hair.

"Don't make me wait long," she said before she went inside of her room and shut the door. He felt absolutely dirty for standing there so long after she must have gone to bed, listening to the noise she was making inside of her room by herself. It had been terrible of him to send her away, and his dick seemed to think him pretty stupid too from how hard it was straining in his pants.

He forced himself to leave her door when she began to cry out his name, because it was either that or go into her room and fuck her until morning, and he knew he needed a clear head before he could allow himself to do that.

End of Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all hate me now, I know you do.
> 
> Next chapter, I swear. There will be sexy times soon, I promise. What can I say? I just love drawing these things out. That and frustrating poor Solona. She's about ready to set him on fire, but damn he's too sexy to risk burn marks.

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter to get us started. Considering the first story was all from Solona's point of view, I decided to make Loghain the focus this chapter. I liked the idea of the letters back and forth in order to keep them in communication because I imagined Anora would have been writing to him anyway. Even though he was stripped of his title and power, and was sent all the way to a foreign country to keep him from getting involved, I don't see the queen actually giving a damn. She'd probably still be perfectly happy to let him give her suggestions and ideas on how to rule, but Loghain seems to follow orders well enough he'd know not to bother.
> 
> She's probably not the kind of woman to write about innate things like happy children, the animals coming back, or anything like that though. Solona luckily knows these are the things Loghain would have liked to hear about, so she was happy to fill him in. Of course the fact the little mage wanted to keep in contact with him anyway helped. She's no doubt gotten much more comfortable talking to him after a year and a half of letters to boot.
> 
> In any case, please review if you would be so kind. There aren't many Loghain fics out there, so I'd love some feedback. I really want to do him justice and opinions on his character and the storyline would help a ton. I appreciate it.


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